What We have Left
by TooApatheticToCare
Summary: The Capital Institute For Criminally Disturbed teenagers. It's where we go, blood staining our hands as we try and pick up our broken parts, trying not to cry out as our hands come away red. [CatoXClove] [KatnissXFinnick]
1. Chapter 1

How did I get here?

The whitewashed walls and cold metal window frames, the heavy smell of antiseptic and the constant hustle and bustle, the beeping of machines and the frustrated talk of nurses working on overtime: this isn't my sort of venue. I _hate_ hospitals. I always have. It's just something about the feeling of being a faceless medical record, to be passed from doctor to doctor, phycologist to phycologist, that sets me on edge. Doctor Aurelius would say that that's part of my problem.

 _"You feel that you are superior because that is what you have always been told, yet what you find doesn't often match up, that is perhaps why you-"_

He is the one that sent me here, that and a court order, the Capital Institute For Criminally Disturbed teenagers, they think it will turn me around, _fix_ me, as though I'm a broken toy being sent to a repair shop. Even though there's nothing wrong with me, not really. I just have a temper, and sometimes a fly off the handle and it get me in trouble, like now.

The man walking me through the facility is clad in a white coat, identical to every other doctor to be seen, and he talks slowly, as though I am going to need a few seconds to think through each of his words. I can't bring myself to correct him or snap at him, just shrug noncommittally at his ramblings.

"So communal time will be spent in these rooms," he says as he leads me through a series of white halls, "there are many sessions available, such as painting, music, rope tying, cooking and, on special occasions, we will take you all down to a sports facility, under supervision, of course." The man smiles briefly and is gifted by another shrug, he isn't fazed by my lack of interest and my eyes flicker over his identity badge, his name is Betee, I store that in my head for later as he leads me on, passing white door after white door before he eventually pushes open a door at the end of the corridor.

"And this is where you'll be staying, your roommate is called Finnick, he's probably in the communal room at the moment, but he'll be back after dinner, I can introduce you two now if you want?" ignoring this comment, I finally find my voice,

"Which bed is mine?" my voice comes out a dry rasp, a far throw from the intimidating boom I was hoping for, and Betee looks at me sympathetically,

"The one by the window." he says, pointing and for the first time I notice little cuts and burns all over his hands, some old, some painfully fresh, "We'll call you at dinner time, it will be a good chance to meet everyone." he says, before he turns and leaves me to stew in my hospital scrubs, in a bland whitewashed room.

* * *

As warned, I am called for dinner at six o clock sharp by a woman with frizzy grey hair. Her fingers tap a repetitive pattern against my door and she quietly informs me dinner is ready, before leaving, the expectation that I will follow, unspoken. More white walls assault my vision, even their cafeteria is bland, but at least there is something new, _people._

In school, I was never good with people, often the bully, occasionally the bullied, but never the friend. It wasn't that I aimed to be alone, it just often worked out that way. It had never bothered me before, and as my eyes sought out a spare seat, I wondered if I was just someone who didn't fit in anywhere, not even with the freaks that I am apparently so similar to.

"Hey hulk, over here." A voice broke me out of my ramblings, a girl was waving at me. Her hair was short and dark, cut to her jaw and pinned out of a sharp face, with dark eyes that glittered at me from an empty table. I glanced behind me, checking she _was_ definitely talking to me before walking over and sliding into a seat across from her. She grinned, her teeth pointy and white and extended a hand.

"Clove." she said, I looked at her hand for a few seconds, before taking it and grumbling,

"Cato." if possible, her smile seemed to widen at this titbit of information and she began to eat her lunch, plastic cutlery loosely clasped in her hand as she appraised me with curious eyes.

"Cato the Hulk, I like it, tell me, how did you end up in this hellhole." her tone was casual, but her eyes were focused so intently on me it was unnerving, I ignored the probing question, it was none of her business. She scowled, "That never works..." she muttered. "Look, you'll tell me eventually anyway, so I'm not gonna probe, but everyone here knows everyone's horror story anyway, so it doesn't really matter." I continued to eat, but the food tasted like rubber in my mouth. The girl pointed a table away from us, at a twitchy girl with black hair. "That's Joanna." she said, "She got locked up in here years ago, some freaks kidnapped her, locked her away and did god knows what until she escaped, half mad and bitchy as hell." Clove smirked and my stomach churned as I continued to ignore her, "Those two?" she pointed at a beautiful girl with long black hair, tied in a braid down her shoulder, and an equally beautiful boy sitting beside her, with copper coloured hair and green eyes that were visible from two tables away, "Such a tragedy-" I cleared my throat,

"I don't want to know." My voice came out a mere whisper of it's normal volume and she frowned,

"Are you a jumper? Did you..." she did a crude imitation of being hung from a noose and snickered. Anger settled in my stomach and I pushed myself away from the table, my chair scraped against the floor as I moved away, counting backwards from ten in my head. Quietly, I sat down with group of kids, who barely acknowledged me and my head ached as everything that had happened hit me, I was locked away in the madhouse. I couldn't stay here, I wasn't like these people, with their terrifying backstories and nightmarish existence, I was normal, I was different to them. But as a caught sight of my reflection in the metal jug in the centre of the table, I couldn't help but note my identical scrubs to everyone else.

* * *

Ok, no murder please. I am not generally a supporter of Katniss and Finnick, nor do I really have much time for Cato and Clove, but I thought about the idea of them in a modern world mental institution and it wouldn't leave me alone... A new chapter will be posted soon!


	2. Chapter 2

The bed was hard and unyielding against my back as I lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling. The window filtered in faint light, enough to illuminate the room and cast shadows across the walls. My room mate lay silently in the bed next to me. Part of me tried to tell myself to be friendly, offer my name, even if I was only going to be staying in this hellhole for a few weeks (I hoped), but that part of me was ignored in favour of the blissfully silent room. I thought that in that situation, my eyes would remain open, staring at the ceiling all night, but the exhaustion took over very quickly, and soon I was oblivious to the world, fast asleep. When I woke up the next morning, my room mate was already gone.

A fresh set of scrubs was laid out on the end of my bed, and I pulled the personality-less garb over myself, every muscle aching as though i had just run a marathon. There was a small sink in the corner of my room, and I doused my face in cold water before heading to where I remembered the food hall to be. The hallway was desolate, all white doors shut the only light was the electric bar on the ceiling, despite the bright sunlight that was so clear through my bedroom window. The mess hall was less oppressive, a wide pace with windows at the top of the ceiling, the tables were very empty, and I wondered if everyone was a late riser, because judging by the clock on the wall, it was eight in the morning, so more people would normally be up by now. I grabbed a tray and a woman with greasy blonde hair in a hairnet slopped some porridge like substance across my tray, barely glancing at me as she did so. I sat myself at an empty table staring at the sliver of light available hopelessly.

"Hulk, baby!" a pair of hands closed over my eyes and squealed, the darkness engulfed me and I felt my throat constrict, _count to ten_ , Doctor Aurelius' voice rang through my head and I reached up, pulling the girl's hands off my face. it was only as I set my palms flat on the table that I realised that they were trembling. I turned to glare at my attacker. Clove stared at me, unaffected and tapped her foot against the floor irritatingly. My trembling subsided and a voice cut into our stare off,

"Are you here to get over Achluophobia?" asked a quiet voice, I looked for it's source and was greeted by a vaguely similar girl, I promptly realised it was the beauty from the day before, the one Clove had called a "tragedy" her face was calm but her hand trailed repeatedly along the edge of the table, a nervous gesture I couldn't help but relate to.

"Don't go talking your doctor language, Kat-piss." Clove sneered, "No one here is impressed by your I-swallowed-a-textbook attitude." The girl toyed with her braid, chewing her lip.

"It's fear of the darkness." she mumbled, "I originally thought it might be Aphenphosmphobia, but you shook Doctor Betee's hand when you came here, so unless it's specifically towards your face, Achluophobia seems like the logical answer." at my blank look, she elaborated, "fear of being touched"

"I'm not scared of the dark." I mumbled, "I just don't like being taken by surprise." she frowned at my answer, her eyes glowing a curious silver,

"I don't know the term for fear of jump scares." she said, Clove laughed a laugh that was far from genuine and murmured,

"Don't really know much about anything worthwhile, do you Kat-piss?" the girl's brows drew together and I turned and snapped,

"Shut up Clove." the girl in question seemed to, if anything, grow more malicious at this, her dark eyes flashing fire.

"She _doesn't_ know anything, not even how to protect her sister, eh, Kat-piss?" Clove's lips curled as though she had somehow won, and the girl, who's name I still didn't know, blinked, as though coming out of a deep sleep, yet when she responded, her voice was just as bland.

"No, I suppose I don't..." she smiled slightly, eyes still oddly blank, "You know," she looked at me as she spoke, "They cut my little sister open, from here," her fingers ghosted her throat, "To here." she touched the space between her pelvis bones. "Then, they blew me up." she pulled up her shirt, taught, tanned muscles were revealed, and across every defined line, were patches of discoloured skin, like a carpet sown out of material that didn't quite know what colour it was. Burns, I realised. She stood up, shirt falling down across painted flesh, and walked from the room, singing as she left, "Clove's got Venustraphobia..."

As though a switch had been flicked, Clove was staring at me with a bright smile again.

"Hulk! I've missed you." she smiled in a manor that could almost be seen as pretty and slid into the seat next to me.

"What's wrong with you?" I snapped, moving away from her, "Why would you say something like that to her." Clove didn't glance at me, beginning to eat her porridge,

"Just thought you should know about the kind of crazy you're dealing with here." she said, she widened her eyes. 'That girl may be pretty, but she's seriously messed up."

"like you?" I asked, Clove was making me angrier by the minute, numbers were filling my brain and my vision was a rosy tinge.

"You think I'm pretty?" she asked, pressing her hands together in mock flattery. I, for the second and what I was sure wouldn't be the last time, stormed away from Clove, leaving my food untouched.

The walls seemed to close in on me the moment I was back in the white halls, Doctor Betee, the man who had escorted me to my room, was standing in the hallway, talking to another doctor and upon catching sight of me he, without a word, caught my elbow and lead me into a large room, it was covered in paintings and drawings. Sitting at one of the tables sat the girl from before, though now she was accompanied by a boy with copper hair and an angelic face. His arms were peppered with burns, much like Katniss' and the two were talking quietly, heads close together. A man stood in the centre of the room and smiled slightly, clapping his hands as I entered.

"Today, we are going to be painting. As most of you know the equipment is in the boxes to your right." he gestured to a pile of cardboard boxes lining two of the shelves, "I want you all to draw the thing that makes you feel _something_ , it doesn't have to be happiness, but a strong emotion." the room, which was pretty occupied, was suddenly filled with the noise of people moving to the paints. Swept up in the hubbub, I grabbed a sheet of paper and some paints, before collapsing an an empty table. The blank page seemed to stare at me, mirroring my mental state. almost without thinking about it, I began to draw. I have never been a painter, never had skill with a brush, my father always said that painting was sport for the weak, and I never really delved into it, but there was something about the circumstances, under the harsh light, softened by the shadows of shelves, with the almost silence of lots of people trying to draw, had my hand moving and painting.

At the end of the session, which turned out to be twelve O clock, I realised that I had been sketching for over three hours. glancing up, i realised the room was almost empty. The instructor smiled at me from across the desk, I hadn't even realised that he had sat down.

"You draw a lot?" he asked, eyebrows slightly raised in a far from intimidating manor, I shrugged, "Do you mind if I take a look?" i shrugged again and the man leaned over, peering at the sheet I had drawn upon. He smiled slightly, "Very nice." I leaned back and surveyed the drawing, it was nothing special, crude lines blotched across the page, depicting a pair of hands over a pair of eyes. Light filtered around it casting the whole picture into a surreal shadow. The man nodded as he took it in, "My name is Cinna," the man said, extending his hand, I opened my mouth to tell him my name, and the man smiled, "You're Cato, I know most people's names... You have a lot of potential, I hope to see you drawing in here a lot more." He smiled at me and I felt myself smiling back, the man had on the regular white jacket that I had always hated, but he had stuck many badges across the sides, making him look like a mad professor from a movie then an actual doctor. The part of me that hated the general conformity of the doctor's garb branched out to him slightly.

"What time is lunch?" I asked, at a loss to say anything depth worthy. The man glanced at his watch,

"Now actually, walk with me." he got up and walked to the door, I followed behind as he lead me down the corridor, "Clove seems to have taken a liking to you," he said conversationally, I scowled, the man laughed slightly, "You have the face on that Katniss wore for the first two months of being here." he said, it took me a few seconds to realise that he was referring to the girl Clove referred to as 'Kat-piss', at this reference, my scowl grew, thinking of my altercation with Clove. "Clove is a good girl." the man said, "She just takes a bit of getting used to, she means well, but she has bad habits." as we reached the hall, he smiled, "It was nice talking at you, Cato." he said. I laughed slightly.

"It was nice being talked at." I said quietly. before sliding into an empty table. The man nodded and went to sit with the other doctors. As was growing to be a bad habit, Clove casually slid down next to me with a casual greeting of,

"Hi hulk."


End file.
